Eight
by Faelo
Summary: What happened after the pier sank and Doc Ock sank into oblivion? This is the story after Spider-Man 2, from Doctor Otto Octavius's view. Please, read on and please, please. please review! May contain spoilers for SM-2.


_Hey, this is my first FanFiction and it's really new. Please feel free to review. I know that it's not even close to being done, but don't worry. I intend to constantly be updating it. Oh yeah, I'm writing this for me and no one else, so I don't really care if you don't like it that much. Feel free to express your opinion, though- in no way am I holding you back.-just know that I really won't be phased by any negative input. Also, in no way do I own Doc Ock, Spider-Man, or any Marvel characters there-of. Having that said, please read on!_

**Spider-Man 3: Ock-Umentary**

People often see the East River as the passageway to second chances, a new life. They speak of it as being a type of redemption. Once you complete the crossing, you're purified of all old sins. This night, the waters were oddly calm. It splashed against the concrete rise that kept Manhattan off of the immediate water in a tentative way. The blackness and stillness of all but a few waves make this night seem eerie and cold. Everything is at a complete standstill, along with the noises usually carried by the wind from the inner city. A chilling breeze made its way through the vacant streets to the river; it would moan its misery to everyone within earshot. Most of the city was sleeping, leaving the river caked in shadow. Soundless as the grave would be the best way to describe this barren night. A ways off shore, the silhouette of the pointed roof of an old, sunken pier can be seen barely poking out of the black water. Before this night, it was still able to see the city, instead of being banished to a sunken, watery grave.

The water slowly calms down to a point of almost absolute stillness. From the depths of the sinister river, a soft, red glow begins to come into focus right next to the concrete side. The light amplifies, though still feint, seeming to rise from the bottom of the river. The water begins to give off small ripples as the glow comes nearer to the surface. A metal claw with three, dangerous-looking pincers breaks the glassy surface of the water. The glow came from the red light positioned in the center where all three of the pincers join. The claw continues to move out of the water, seeming to be attached to a metal tentacle, resembling a spine. Thepincers firmly grip into the concrete siding, digging into the hard surface. It actually half-melts into the concrete; its temperature must be soaring. The tentacle was straining so hard to keep a firm grip that it let out a high-pitched, metallic sound; almost resembling a shrill, yet quiet, harmonic scream. Whatever it was connected to was lost beneath the murky water.

Another tentaclepierces through the calm surface of the river, alsomelting into the concrete. Both of the unnatural appendages moved in a narcotic fashion, giving the impulse that whatever they were connected to was severely weakened and probably dying or dangerously close to death. With a final heave, the tentacles retracted and pulled a large, lumpy shape over the side of the concrete, onto the hard ground; following were two of the same appendages, just with larger claws. It was smoking, much like your breath on a chill winter day, giving the impression that its temperatures, like the tentacles, must have been amazingly high. The inhuman tentacles were connected to the thing's back.

In the musty darkness, the large shape was outlined by a filmy layer of water. The tentacles hazily rise up, still having an over-induced narcotic feel to their movements. In a gentle nature, they begin to nudge the object that was their host. The thing slightly stirred and rolled onto its stomach, giving off a quiet groan. The thing was a man. His hair was matted down from the water and he wore an open, drenched trench coat with grey pants. Around his midsection was a metal harness which seemed to be how the tentacles connected to him. But the most noticeable thing about him was his skin. Burnt and raw, it was peeling and hanging off of him in places. This wretched beingdoesn't even resemble the human that he was. Monster, would be the best word to describe him since most people call him that anyways… His glazed, hazel eyes opened slowly and painfully with his vision severely blurred. The claws hiss very subtly, relieved. He looked in the direction of one claw, close to his face. Could it be that he understood the noises they made?

With great effort, all four of the claws plant into the ground, two on each side of the man. They extended, lifting him up, a foot off the ground. The tentacles began to walk, just like a four legged animal, carrying the man along. Staggering, they slink into a murky alleyway between two buildings. At the far wall of the dead end, they collapsed, yet still tried a failed attempt to brace their host's fall. He landed with a large groan on the ground, not having enough strength to prevent it. The tentacles lay limp by his side, stirring slightly before going silent again.

One upper tentacle slowly rises up and reaches into a dumpster retrieving a ragged, dirty blanket. Carefully draping it over the man, he twitched slightly. Finally the tentacle collapsed and he passed out, slipping into a feverish nightmare-induced sleep.

Doctor Otto Octavius awakened in alarm to the harsh blare of a taxi's horn. It seemed to have crunched into the car in front of it and now the drivers were yelling at each other; one screams out a slur of curse words. Otto was not happy to begin with due to the constant groggy and weak feeling lingering about him, and that jerky awakening didn't help the slightest amount. Groaning, he began to open his eyes very slowly, his vision blurred, and his mind swimming in fog. Every time he moved anything, his skin would sting so bad that he'd nearly black out. Otto had only a vague recollection of the previous night causing him to be totally and utterly puzled._Where the Hell am I?_ He thought. _Is this Heaven, or…_

A sickly feeling began to arise forcingOtto to roll onto his side and painfully cough up water. _No, I'm alive, blast it... This _is_ Hell…_Exerting a huge amount of effort and enduringblinding pain, he managed to push himself up into a sitting position, purging out more liquid for a few moments. Otto wearily gazed at his new surroundings, which, at this point, were the three dirty brick walls and the opening into the pot-hole infested street. He could only see their blurry shapes… To make matters worse, feint sounds of sirens rang out in the distance, setting the Doctor's nerves on edge.

There was something missing that usually was with him but he couldn't quite think of what it was; the cruel result of his spinning headache. He noticed the ragged blanket draped around his shoulders. There was no possible way that he could have covered himself or even _survived_ last night, so it had to have been… His eyes darted around the alley. An empty feeling sank into him like a thick shroud from the absence of the usually constant, cajoling voices. Yet, that feeling lasted for only a moment before turning to relief and joy. They had to have been destroyed in the water; he couldn't feel or hear them.

With a new sense of freedom, he discarded the blanket to the ground and attempted to very slowly stand, having to use two walls for support andquickly inhalingdeep breaths to fight the constant pain of passing out. Taking a few wobbly steps with his hand still placed on the wall, Otto moved along towards the street opening; he stopped before reaching it. Staying in the murky shadows, he merely looked out amongst the blurry shapes of scattered people on the sidewalk and obnoxious car horns on the semi-empty street. Even though he was in the slums of New York City, it was still moving busily, and somehow acquiring fame from that never-ceasing quality. He never understood why tourists were so attracted to this place, since all it had was noisy, rude people and jam-packed streets. Otto had often wondered why he, himself, decided to take up residency in one of the most crowded, dirty cities in the world, yet a sharp pain of memories brought back those reasons: Rosie and his research. He had successfully succeeded in losing them both…

Otto leaned his left side against the building, overcome with sorrow. Old memories of his Rosie began to flood back into his mind, making him weaker and weaker until he sank down to the ground, burying his head in his gloved hands. The loss of someone so precious, so vital to his life hit his heart like a sack of bricks. The harsh reality, in his mind, was that he could have saved her. He could have prevented the loss of her life. _It's all my fault..._ He sadly thought_ It's all my_ _doing…My miscalculation…_ A growing drop of water formed in the corner of his eye then tumbled out, slowly rolling down his cheek, leaving a glistening trail on his worn skin. Aloud, he spoke in a quiet, meek voice, "Why couldn't have you let me die?" Otto looked up into the evening sky, "Why? I don't deserve the privilege of living… My Rosie's dead, my dream…gone. I have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. Look at me! I'm a shell of a human, a monster!" Otto looked down at his scarred hands. Broiled skin was hanging off of them, "I can't live like this! You're just making my life and death filled with more suffering…Why didn't you let my die, oh God why couldn't you have at least granted me that one wish…" Otto broke down into tears, placing his head in his hands again, silently weeping. He stayed there, slumped against the wall, sobbing for a long while. Slowly, he calmed down and tried to get himself back together. All of this was so unexpected-- He was supposed to be boiled at the bottom of the river by now. The black water was supposed to be his profane grave.

_This can't possibly get any worse… _He sadly thought. Oh how little he knew, for the real terror was about to slither out from its hiding place. Slowly, a creeping voice, or rather, four voices talking in unison, would ease its way into his mind. It was the very fabric of what he feared the most.

_Do not be sad, Father…_

Otto froze instantly, turning pale and his pupils contracting. This was the look of a man who had just met his inner most demons. One can never imagine this type of fear unless you've seen your mind slip away from you, watching your entire soul slowly decompose from your body and see yourself as a mere husk of what you once were. Hopefully, you have never had this happen because believe me, you _do_ go insane…

_We saved you. Yes, we are good children?_

Otto fell back, painfully crawling backwards on all fours as fast as any man who had just cheated death could. He ended in the darkest closed corner of the alley away from the street, exhausted and acting like he was fleeing from some unseen entity that just appeared in front of him. His vision started to go dark…Yet, his back never touched the brick wall of the corner. Something about five inches thick and made of cold, hard metal stood between him and it.

"No…" he gasped, "NO! You're not here! You're not here!" Otto buried his head in his hands and endured a sharp sting of pain, "…not here…"

_But Father…we thought you'd be glad to see us… You're alive and we can begin assisting you yet again… _The voices said. There was still no sign of what was making the sounds in his head.

"I don't want your help! You control me no longer!" He yelled.

From behind him, through four, mangled holes in his trench coat, the beings revealed themselves. Four titanium tentacles, each with their own, deadly pincer, curled themselves around him; the top two looked from both of his sides and the bottom ones looked up. The wretched, eerie noise they created was something of a metallic hiss. It is purely unimaginable. The tentacles would wave around slightly, in a hypnotic fashion and coo as they spoke to the doctor.

You _have become….weak, Father. Don't you remember our- _They corrected themselves. _-your, dream_? _Is that woman making you sad? Why? We can easily take her place._

"My dream? It died that day!" the doctor said furiously, "Along with my wife! You can never take her place! Never!" With that, he viciously jabbed a claw against the brick wall with his human hands, ignoring the searing burn from his skin. This, of course, didn't phase the claws. That was less than a mosquito bite for them.

_But Father…look at all we have given you so far…look at the power and protection. This is only a glimpse of our true potential! We can learn. We can…evolve…_ The bottom two claws, which were larger, extended over towards the dumpster. Each one gripped the opposite side of it and compressed. It crumpled up like paper under the claw's awesome power. Otto gulped nervously. They were powerful enough on their own, but with a genius such as himself assisting, well…

Leaving the now mutilated dumpster, they'd retract, gliding back to the doctor. He looked at a top claw, close to his face, "But what of the reactor? It was all wrong. Twice it failed. Twice!" he stammered weakly, slumping against the wall.

The tentacles waved their pincers and replied quickly.

_Not your fault, Father. The nasty Spider did it all. Every time he distracted you, causing the containment breaches, which made it uncontainable… Try to remember, Father._ In a delicate way, they added, _The woman…she stopped functioning because of the Spider…If you can remember, we know you're not well, but we could have saved her if he hadn't interfered. You know we're right, Father. You were busy dealing with him…Spider's fault…_

The sky began to darken and the clouds swelled with moisture making the alley darken even more and acquire a sinister quality. Otto's head instantly jerked up at the ringing of their words. They ran through his mind spreading cool relief to his sad feelings. His eyes darkened and narrowed, lips turning up into a sneer. Then, in a chilling voice, he hissed, "Yesss…" A large boom of thunder crashed across the sky. It seemed that he did not remember who Spider-Man really was. Who could blame him, since he had just narrowly escaped drowning, and the claws were in no way thinking about reminding him of that.

_You understand! Smart, brilliant Father! _The claws shrieked in joy.

"You four shut up." He snapped back. "I'm in control. Not you. Get that through your ionic particle heads."

They quickly drew back and meekly hissed, _Yes, of course Father…_

Drops of water slowly began to bomb down from the clouds. Their wrath was about to be unleashed as the rate of drops quickly amplified. The cold rain spread relief to his scorched and mangled skin. With a large breath, Otto began a shaky attempt to stand, having to use the two joined walls of the corner for support and pushing through the, now lesser, burn of his skin. His bottom, larger claws planted firmly into the ground, steadying him. It seemed that the tentacles had regained most of their strength, which was vital, due to the fact that he could barely stand on his own. Slowly walking, with the assistance of his claws, over to the other end of the alley, he looked right and left, making sure that no police officers were around. Not like any of them would even at tempt to patrol the gang-infested slums of New York. He was definitely in no condition to control the claws in battle even against the Feds, so it was good to play it safe for a while. He also needs to work on his housing situation for the moment. Funds would, too be a plus, but he decided to save that matter for later...

In his head, he chanted, _Being the most notorious man in the entire city would get me noticed anywhere rather quickly. Yet, it's not like anyone could stop me…_

The claws hissed with glee to each other, _He's back…_

Thunder rolled right above him and puddles became common. Drainage sewers were taking in the flowing rivers of water from the street. The tentacles then shrunk down, retracting through the torn holes in the back of his trench coat. The doctor reached into one of his pockets and takes out a brown flap, matching the color and fabric of his coat, which he had used previously when trying to get funds from a bank. Buttoning it on the back so it fell over the four holes, concealing them completely, he tries to smooth out his wild hair. Looking as unnoticeable as possible, Otto stepped out into the light of the street. Blood-red rays of light radiated from the setting sun, warming his coat, while water continued to pour onto him until everything was sopping wet. He pauses, looking directly into the great ball of fire from over his shoulder, unflinching. Otto's pained eyes were used to it, having gazed into the giant twice before at an even closer range.

A small smile crept onto his face as he very softly said, "Soon, very soon, you'll be mine…" a brilliant, illuminating flash of lightning struck from the heavens.Otto turns, flipping his collar up, and slowly walked towards the city.


End file.
